


cold case

by ciredan



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (dragon) language kink, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fantastic Racism, M/M, Murder, No Explicit Violence, Sexual References, alternate blood on the ice - the butcher is the dragonborn, but there is posthumous discussion of murders, conspiratory overtones, i break the game for The Aesthetic(TM), light gore elements, lycanthropy arguably, political corruption, pretty much absolute canon break, thats an understatement, ulfric is nasty, werewolf LDB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciredan/pseuds/ciredan
Summary: windhelm rots from the head down





	cold case

**Author's Note:**

> >>>almost a year in the making

THE OFFICIAL REPORTS STATE THAT THE TIME OF DEATH WAS UNKNOWN, CAUSE OF DEATH UNKNOWN, THAT THE VICTIM WAS FOUND AROUND 0530 HOURS ON FREDAS, THE 5TH OF MIDYEAR, IN THE GREY QUARTER WITH MULTIPLE LACERATIONS AND BURN WOUNDS SPANNING THE ABDOMEN AND LOWER BODY.

The official reports only ever tell half the story.

(there's nothing about the child who caught sight of the beast, shadowy-- _human_. whom the monster got so close to that she could taste the death on its muzzle and see sinews flex between its teeth and spay out cold, lifeless breath. she'd shivered at the time but later could only recall the blazing heat that radiated from beneath its flesh; how she'd near been drawn out from her hiding place some mere three feet away as if the beast were a puppeteer pulling on her strings. she'd returned home not-so-much later that night to her dunmer family, the scent of blood lingering still-heady in her lungs, a newfound fear of the dark fresh in her mind and the memory of piercing golden eyes leering at her through the darkness.)

The dragonborn-- Thane of Windhelm, as it stood-- had been called in to investigate the scene of the murder. The man was tall, and quiet in a menacing kind of way, but commanded the attention and respect of the guard discreetly.

THE OFFICIAL REPORTS STATE THAT THE INVESTIGATION RETURNED NO LEADS, THE MURDER COME UP COLD. CRIME-SCENE CLEANUP HAD BEEN CALLED IN PREEMPTIVELY, SMEARING AWAY THE BLOOD TRAIL; MISHANDLED EVIDENCE DECLARED USELESS BY CARELESS HANDS; THERE HAD BEEN NO DISCOVERED WEAPON ANYWAY, NO AURAS CONJURED UP BY THE WIZARD'S DETECT MAGIC, NO WITNESSES--

(save for the little dunmer girl, who went home to her _ata_ and _alma_ , and was hushed by her family: don't cause trouble, we can't afford the guard poking around our business, _yi muhrjul_ , it must have been a trick, you're ill, delirious!-- please, go to sleep and you'll surely forget by morning.)

(she didn't, but the guards don't care about the memory of some greyskin girl.)

\--NO WITNESSES. OFFICIALLY, THE CASE WAS DECLARED COLD THE FOLLOWING MIDDAS.

(but anyone who was paying attention could see it was dismissed even before then.)

The Dragonborn had a reputation preceding him by legions. A tall fellow, Redguard by the name of Arzeel, with black dreaded hair gathered into a ponytail and a hulking demeanour that suggested that he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment. For all the tales of triumph that had reached Windhelm seasons before he ever did, his actual presence was more than underwhelming. Somehow, he managed to evade the attention of the townsfolk almost constantly, seeming to weave in and out of the shadows at will despite his large size. When all he contributed to the actual investigation amounted to a few brazen decisions, a couple of leads that anyone could've followed, a dumber man or mer might have questioned his aptitude for the job; h͜ow̵̴e͜v̛͜er ̨͟-̸-̴̷͏

 **ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ** *

(if she looked closely enough, she saw scales at the base of his neck, just barely; hints of brass that caught the light, creeping up the columns and fading into tan skin. if she looked closely enough, she'd catch his eye, and might shy away at the blazing yellow she saw there.)

///

It was no secret that the Jarl of Windhelm picked favourites. From the moment the Dragonborn had entered his court there'd been bounties and quests greater than any other champion that had graced the Palace of Kings during Ulfric's reign. Of course the Dragonborn was admitted in to the Stormcloak army without a trial. Of course the Dragonborn rose through the ranks so quickly, being entrusted with bringing back the Jagged Crown a mere few days after recruitment. Of course the Dragonborn was bestowed such gifts of weapons and titles from the Jarl's personal armoury.

(some said -- and this was only rumours, mind, -- that the jarl was privy to inviting back soldiers to his more private quarters.)

now, keeping that this is all just one massive conspiracy, of course, but i've heard that the jarl has been consorting with that dragon fellow. there's always been that speculation-- as with any politician really!-- that the jarl was of [ahem] _atypical_ persuasion, but now that friga swears she saw them i don't think i can dispute it. ( _what? relative to the alternative i'd rather not think my sister a liar._ ) i must say how disappointed i am, viola. i mean, not that i'd ever had a chance with him anyway, but the thought was nice and all. plus, it's awfully hard to find such a strong leader these days; they just don't make them like they used to any more. i don't mean to be crude but this whole thing is giving me doubts about ulfric's leadership.

///

arzeel has appeared before ulfric's court a hundred times already and before various other royal and judicial courts a hundred times more. the jarl isn't subtle with his desires; arzeel doesn't think the man had a bone in his body capable of nuance or intelligent thought. he might be put off by the hypocrisy of his homonationalism, if he were genuinely interested in anything the man had to say.

as it stands, it's inconsequential.

they commune by night, at first solely in ulfric's personal chambers deep within the winding labyrinth of the palace of kings. they both get bolder, however, and the jarl seems like he's desperate for a scandal-- some kind of masochistic fantasy perhaps-- when he brings arzeel out behind the palace, then in the grounds, and the alleys. it's weird; arzeel wouldn't've expected a man like ulfric stormcloak to want the kind of hair-pulling, grabbing, hand-muffled treatment that he begs for so consistently. he guesses that with all the stress of leading an insurrection (presumably) it might be nice to have the control wrenched from you for a few precious moments (presumably).

arzeel just follows mutely, save for the few words they share in dovahzul. his dragon blood boils, and he wonders if it's the same coarsing, overwhelming feeling for ulfric when he hears syllables that call out to the wyrm in his soul, tearing his mundus body apart from the ribs out and leaving the blaze unattended to consume everything in its wake. stormcloak isn't dragonborn, however, so he supposes that he probably just does that to get that reaction.

ulfric is sat back against his chest one night, apparently revelling in the breadth and weight of another man at his back. arzeel reckons he'd just feel trapped in the same situation, but then again anybody who could encompass himself the way he is ulfric would have to be pretty huge. the jarl is lither than most give him credit-- the bulky furs add around ten pounds to the eye but the smooth planes of his exposed sides are good for holding and he shudders _just so_ when arzeel leans in and hisses _"drem, paari"_ in his ear that he can't help but give the jarl anything he wants to take.

his mission will be over soon, and arzeel knows that he'll be gone by the time the full moon sings her strongest summons from up in the inky sky, but it's nice to lose himself in the indulgences for a few moments.

///

There's roaring at night.

It's wild and unhinged, and the guard changes less and you can see it in the soldiers' eyes that they're tired. They can't see the beast, but for a week now it has been giving subtle hints of its existence. There's claw-scuffles in the ice 'round sharp bends, barrels lying smashed to pieces in alleys. The court wizard suspects a lycanthrope. The more pragmatic of the residents have chased off the dog that sleeps behind The White Phial with stones and torches. Nobody has seen Sofie the flower girl in days.

THE OFFICIAL REPORTS HOLD NO RECORD OF THE DRAGONBORN'S EXISTENCE. HE WAS IN AND OUT OF WINDHELM IN LESS THAN A MONTH, THE WAR LONG-OVER BEFORE HE'D BREATHED HIS LAST FLAME INTO THE HEARTH. 

if the jagged crown had never reached windhelm, had appeared one night splattered with blood in general tullius' chambers, a hulking shadow in the corner of the room with two dancing lights flashing orange in the darkness before disappearing with the howling winds. if, when the war ends, it's an imperial victory and the stormcloak army is scattered into fearful obscurity by the violent death of their leader early one midyear morning when he's found-- mauled to death-- in his own chambers by what appears to be the work of a pack of wolves **_OR ONE, LARGE ONE_** , then that can always be attributed to misfortune.

AND IF THERE WERE NO WITNESSES, _(besides the little dunmer girl, whose eyes have been everywhere, obsessive since she first saw the beast)_ , THEN SO BE IT.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW WHAT YOURE THINKING AND ITS OKAY: sofie got adopted and lives at lakeview manor with her 7 siblings who all get on very well, thanks, and arzeel is a good dad even if he does get them too many knives but lydia is the responsible parent when arzeel is away (which is usually)
> 
> *text reads: "do not wake the sleeping dragon" for android thots like me
> 
> dictionary:  
> ata (dunmeri) - father  
> alma (dunmeri) - mother  
> yi muhrjul (dunmeri) - my child  
> drem, paari (dragontongue/dovahzul) - patience, my desire
> 
> 5th of midyear is hircine's summoning date according to uesp


End file.
